


The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

by Mysterycheerio



Series: Fables Of One Suicidal Spider [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dead Peter Parker, Depressed Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker-centric, Peter is a Little Shit, Sad, Sad Ending, Self-Destruction, Suicidal Peter Parker, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Tony Stark Loves Peter Parker, Tony just wants to protect his spiderboi ™, WTF, also yall dint like my kast fic?, and peter is in pain, i killed him again, sorry lesbiams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysterycheerio/pseuds/Mysterycheerio
Summary: What if somebody had died? How could he live with himself?Somebody did die, and he didn't live with himself, not really.*-*Aka, oh look, I killed him again.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Fables Of One Suicidal Spider [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697761
Comments: 24
Kudos: 184





	The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

**Author's Note:**

> Please, read tags. TW for suicide ideation, suicidal/self depreicating thoughts, suicide and suicide notes. Please don't read if this scares or triggers you. Stay safe lovelies <3
> 
> Also, don't read if your allergic to bad writing. This might be my least favourite work so far ://

_“What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? Cause that’s on you.”_

What if somebody had died? How could he live with himself?

Somebody did die, and he didn’t live with himself, not really.

He hasn’t lived in a long time.

_“And if you died… I’d feel like that’s on me.”_

Did he really manipulate Mr. Stark enough to make him feel that way? Of course he did. Peter was manipulative, selfish, disgusting. How dare he? Mr. Stark deserved so much more.

After that fateful night on the ferry, Peter did something he hadn’t done in a while.

He shut himself in his room, opened the drawer underneath his bed and pulled out the tattered, tan briefcase from in it. He rolled the numbers around, eventually getting to the correct combination – 15-10-08.

He opened it and tears welled in his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, his thin fingers dancing nimbly against the manila folders.

He spent hours reading all the information on his parents, what they did at SHIELD, their birthdays, birth certificates, universities they attended – all the information he should’ve known but didn’t, because he was a shit son, to them, to Ben and May.

To Tony.

It wasn’t as if him and Tony were necessarily Father and Son, but it felt like they were building that sort of relationship. Part of him, beneath the panging guilt and melancholy, felt glad Tony had pushed him out when he did – he deserved it, and if they’d gotten any closer, bad things would happen.

He was a curse walking.

As mesmerizing as the folders were, it wasn’t anything compared to the photographs. They were so bright, so radiant in what felt like his cold, somber, truly pathetic existence. His mother was exactly how he imagined her, long, brunette hair and crinkles around her eyes as she smiled, holding, what he assumed to be, a younger version of himself. His father looked a lot like him, he got told that a lot by old family friends, and May and Ben, but to see it for his own eyes.

He didn’t know how long he spent staring at them.

But that wasn’t the thing he was looking for.

He pushed past the small keepsakes and documents, to the bottom of the briefcase, where he found what he’d been looking for.

Two guns.

No doubt these guns were the guns his parents operated with in the line of duty. They weren’t huge firearms, just small, sleek pistols. It felt right that a gun one of his parents used would be the one to end the Parker’s.

He checked both chambers, both coming up fruitless to his disappointment. No doubt it was a courtesy to remove the bullets when they died, or perhaps the last time they’d used them, they used all the bullets.

No matter which theory he chose to dwell on, he knew one thing – he wasn’t going to get bullets anywhere around here.

That’s how Peter found himself sneaking into Tony’s Tower in the middle of the night.

He knew where the man kept some bullets – the training room, used for target practice.

He knew it was risky, and he knew that he could’ve bought some bullets from somewhere, but it just felt right – the bullet that kills him is a bullet from the man that he failed, shot from the gun from his parents, two people he also failed.

He only took one.

When he claimed back through his window, he shut and locked it – something he never did due to his patrolling every night.

He will never patrol again.

How could he? He is a murderer, a criminal. How could he protect the streets of Queens from the very thing that he is?

He felt like a juxtaposition.

He put the bullet into the chamber, and tucked the gun under his pillow.

Before going to sleep, he decided to create a video, a note if you will. He set his phone on his desk, spoke to it (in a somewhat hushed voice, since it was four am) for a while, then turned it off, and climbing numbly into bed.

That night, he did more crying than sleeping, cringing when his warm tears slid off his face onto his pillow, soaking into the cheap cotton sheets.

He wished he could drown in it.

* * *

It took a week for him to snap.

He woke up Wednesday, and immediately got a feeling of numbness and melancholy; he’d never experienced one so intense.

_Today’s the day._

_The day I die._

Throughout the day, he didn’t do any work, not attempting to look for any sense of normalcy.

Instead, he cracked more jokes, made MJ smile more, hugged her, did his handshake with Ned one last time, kissed May on the cheek one last time and hugged her extra tight when she left for her night-shift.

He placed the stack of photographs he’d taken and printed on his laptop, where the video was that he took the night of the ferry (he’d sent the video there). He took his old suit from the depths of his wardrobe and folded it up neatly on his bed, as a present for Mr. Stark. Not that he’d want it.

He placed the broken, plastic Iron Man mask next to it, the one he wore to the Stark Expo in 2011.

He took the gun from under his pillow and tucked it into the waistband of his sweatpants before leaving.

* * *

He was sitting on top of the Queensboro bridge, the gun next to him.

He didn’t rush himself, it was late enough that no one saw him, and besides, these were the last few hours of his life.

He took out his phone, and called Tony.

It rang four times before the man picked up.

“Kid,” He sighed, “Its late. You aren’t getting your suit back.”

“Yeah, I understand that,” He said in a dangerously quiet voice, which seemed to gain Tony’s full attention, “I just needed to say a few things.”

“Peter… Where are you?”

He ignored that question, “I wanted…” He took a deep breath, trying to ease the quiver in his voice from the sob threatening to rise, “I wanted to say I’m sorry for a few things…”

“Pete-“

“I’m sorry for being a failure. For, um, failing and putting those people in danger. Sorry for-“

“Pete, what’s happening?”

“Just wanted to say goodbye, sir,” He mumbled monotonously.

“… You going away, Parker?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Where are you going, Pete?”

He ignored the question again, “I’m sorry for all those times that I bombarded both you and Happy with messages, I’ll think twice before wasting my time again.”

Now years were streaming freely down his face, but he fought to keep his voice normal.

“There’s a, um, a video on my computer, my pass code is 7737. I want you to watch it with May, and make sure Ned and MJ watch it too.”

“Why, Kid?” Tony’s voice sounded like he was crying.

“That’s what people do, right? Leave a note.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Tony’s end.

“Kid, whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it. I-“

“I HAVE TO!” he screamed down the phone, sounding as hurting and unstable as he’d ever sounded before, “You all will be better off…”

“Pete-“

“There’s some things on my bed that I want you to have. My first Spidey-Suit. I want you to burn it. Get rid of Spider-Man fully.”

“Peter, I-“

 _I love you_.

“Goodbye, Tony.”

“No, wa-“

_Click._

_Click._

_Bang._

* * *

_“Hey! I’m filming this on the day of the ferry splitting in half and… It’s so hard right now… Living, I mean. Don’t think that this sudden wave of depression just came with the…. Events of that day, I’ve been struggling with this for a while, I think. Just better at hiding it than most._

_I don’t think Mr. Stark knew exactly how taking his suit from me would affect me. Spider-Man is… the only part of me worth something. I can do good as Spider-Man, and not be a screw up. Well, turns out I’m a screw up even as Spider-Man._

_I understand why Mr. Stark cut me out of his life, to him, I was a weapon with the sole use go taking down Captain America, which I didn’t even do right. Then, if Spider-Man is gone, why would he waste his time with pathetic, puny Peter Parker?_

_I didn’t understand why it hurt so much losing you, Mr. Stark. And then it hit me; I kind of saw you as a father figure, and when you took my suit away… I don’t know, I just thought I’d been orphaned enough._

_At this point, I don’t know if I’m gonna do it, kill myself I mean. If you’re watching this, it means I did, but right now I’m gonna see how long I can last before I snap._

_I’m gonna use a gun - my parents were secret agents so I found a gun in my dad’s suitcase. It didn’t come with any bullets, so I had to take one from you, Tony. Sorry about that, but I’ll make up for it in my death._

_MJ, I love you. I’ve never said it before because frankly, neither one of us are the best touchy-feel people, but I love you._

_Ned, thank you for being yourself. For being so… Ned. You’re my best friend, and I can’t imagine my life without you._

_May, I’m sorry for failing you and Ben, I’m sorry for being a shit son and nephew. I love you so much, don’t stop being my May._

_Tony, see all of the above. I love you too._

_Don’t mourn me too much, I’m not worth it. Besides, to quote JK Rowling: ‘To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure’._

_Peter Parker, for the last time._

_Bye guys._

**Author's Note:**

> Comment?
> 
> The combination of the briefcase is 15-10-08 which is a nod to the first comic Spider-Man first appeared in, Amazing Fantasy #15, which was released on the 10th August 1962


End file.
